


it'll be soft, my love, it'll be soft

by cosmicpoet



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14983559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: Komaeda thinks about how things don't have to be great to be good.





	it'll be soft, my love, it'll be soft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bounsweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bounsweet/gifts).



Soft sunlight breaks through the curtains; the dust in the room illuminates in its liminal air, hanging freely and loosely as the epitome of weightlessness. Nothing matters to the dust, it merely _is,_ by virtue of its existence it is worthy of its presence in the room - that’s what happens when one gets used to something.

Komaeda supposes that people will never get used to him. No, he’s too brash, too strange; people judge him and he can’t blame them, because sometimes he sets himself up to fail on purpose. The world will always be harsh to him, so it’s easier to pretend like he’s bringing this harm upon himself. If he can’t have happiness, he can at least have control.

Still, Hinata had practically dragged him to a therapist two months ago, and he’s been promising his boyfriend ever since that he’ll maintain his appointments. After all, even if professionals can’t stuff him with drugs and false words to make him feel better, he can at least find some genuine, sincere emotion in Hinata’s smile whenever he sees Komaeda come back from his appointment.

Ah, but thank his luck that his therapist cancelled today. Komaeda had found himself this morning, not exactly _depressed,_ but overcome by the weight of lethargy and the lack of motivation to move anywhere - hence, now, even in the midday heat, he raises his focus to the sun meandering through the curtains, and the dust particles that just exist.

“Komaeda, darling,” he hears Hinata call from the kitchen, “are you getting up yet?”

“Mm,” Komaeda says in return, his voice still thick with sleepiness, “yeah. Give me a minute.”

He walks to the bathroom, feeling his legs move as if they aren’t his own - the sighs that overcome his body shake him to his core as he moves himself to the sink and brushes his teeth. Splashing water on his face returns to him some semblance of normality, but he still needs a moment to reconcile himself with the dust and the purpose that he’s still trying to find.

The balcony, leading off from his bedroom, leads onto a small patch of grass that bears the familiar name of _home._ Memories flood to him of sitting there on the days-that-weren’t-so-bad, laughing with Hinata and languishing in the sunshine and gentle breeze; he wishes right now that the weather was warm, but the sunlight is deceiving. When he takes the first step onto the balcony, the chill hits him right down to the milk and the marrow of his bones, and he shivers with every fibre of himself. Still, he pushes himself to venture further outside, almost as if the unexpected cold is some form of punishment for him.

Perhaps the bad luck of bad weather will bring him something along with the wind.

As he sits on the dewy grass, he looks up at the sky as blue turns, slowly, to grey. There’s nothing like the changing of weather from mild to ominous to shake him back into the reality of the facts he has always known:

_One: he has an unusual form of luck._

_Two: bad luck will always come after everything._

This thought almost catches in his throat. There’s a brief moment where he tries to fall back into his old fantasies, the ones where his luck only hurt him and never the people he loved, but his brain won’t let him comprehend such a beautiful non-reality; instead, he can just picture his therapist’s face, and the inevitable growth of ice in Hinata’s smile.

Hinata. Everything begins and ends with him; Komaeda’s love, eternal and the only thing in himself that he feels proud of, roots in the core of Hinata being a good person. Which is why Komaeda doesn’t believe that he necessarily _deserves_ Hinata’s love, but someone as selfish as he won’t refuse the attention that’s given to him. At least, he tries to convince himself of this. It’s easier than confronting the possibility that his negative thoughts are wrong, since he’s spent a life basing his whole self-worth and worldview on them.

And speaking of Hinata, he feels right now that his boyfriend is approaching. Turning around, the faux-sun disappears from his vision and he sees Hinata, standing before him, a glass of water in his outstretched hand.

“Here,” he says, “your medication.”

“Thanks,” Komaeda replies, “but you didn’t need to. I would have still taken it.”

“I know you would,” Hinata whispers, kissing Komaeda gently on the cheek, “but I like to make sure.”

Komaeda takes the glass of water and the pills from Hinata’s hand, swallowing a big gulp to get the medicine down his throat. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s physically sick, but confronting the fact that mentally he’s not in the right place is still a tough task for him. With Hinata by his side, though, he feels that, slowly, his self-deprecation is being replaced by something that’s not exactly optimism, but hopeful nevertheless. The hope he sees in Hinata is beautiful.

“I wish it was warmer,” Komaeda says, and Hinata turns around.

“Yeah,” Hinata mumbles.

“But it’s nice as it is.”

“Yeah. I suppose we’d only think it was too hot if the sun was, like, absolutely burning.”

“I like things the way they are. The weather, I mean. Not perfect, but good.”

“Me too,” Hinata says. 

“Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Just…” Komaeda trails off. He knows that Hinata will be disappointed - he’s supposed to be working on not putting himself down so much, but it’s harder than he ever expected. Glancing to the side, he expects to see Hinata’s downtrodden face, but instead he sees a quiet smile.

“Don’t apologise,” Hinata says, “you’re fine.”

“I know.”

“Like…genuinely fine. You’re alive; with me. We’ve got a house, and a little garden with all the flowers you can dream of, and I’ll put the kettle on when we get inside. It might not be grand, but…it’s home. And it’s a place for you and I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated birthday Noah! Hope you love your komahina :^)


End file.
